


The Prime Minister Christens His Desk

by golathaniann (morecivilizedage)



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Fluff and Smut, Hardcore, Knotting, Light Bondage, M/M, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Game, Romance, Rooties, Rough Sex, Sahrian Union, Sex, Tentacle Sex, Threesome, Tree Sex, Vines, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 14:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13436790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morecivilizedage/pseuds/golathaniann
Summary: or, Volfred Sandalwood gets to have his cake, and eat it, too.Pure smut, with a little bit of added romancing and relationship negotiation on the side.





	The Prime Minister Christens His Desk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [machinavellian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/machinavellian/gifts), [Moonsheen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsheen/gifts).



> This is pretty much straight-up super kinky sex between a dude, a demon dude, and a tree. Just tossing that out there.

Hedwyn shuts the door to the Prime Minister’s office quietly behind him, walking with careful, measured steps to stand before the ornate oak desk. It was a little too much for Volfred’s tastes, but the sap had privately told Hedwyn he felt he could not refuse such a gift of goodwill from the happy merchants grateful for the new changes of the Sahrian Union. For a desk of state it was imposing enough, which was probably the purpose of such a piece of furniture anyways.

“Ah yes, Hedwyn. Sit, if you please.” Volfred stands from behind his desk, and welcomes him in, knocking gently on the private side-adjacent door that connected the Prime Minister’s office to that of the Chief Physician’s. If anyone thought such an arrangement was odd, certainly Hedwyn had never heard it, but he also had to admit that Oralech had something of an... air about him that tended to dissuade gossiping tongues from wagging to much.

Hedwyn turns from his musings to sit, only to find that the usual armchairs in front of the prime minister’s desk to receive guests were quite absent, merely the soft plush rug of howler-pattern-dyed fur (apparently all the rage) remained.

“Ah, Prime Minister...” Hedwyn winced even as he said the words, it seems strange to call Volfred by his title, after all they had been through, “...where?”

Volfred turned back to him with a sly smile and heated eyes that made Hedwyn weak in the knees.

“Why, my boy, on the desk.”

Hedwyn swallowed, surprised, and looked back again towards the heavy desk. While usually piled high with papers and proclamations, indeed, it was much neater than it’s usual day-to-day use, and there was a clear spot roughly just the right size for Hedwyn to perch upon. His face flushed, but he shifted to sit, regardless, and found that if he scooted far enough back to rest properly, his legs somewhat dangled over the side. Volfred still had not moved from standing beside the doorway.

Hedwyn opened his mouth to speak, but Volfred simply waved a hand and walked over to the main office door. "Just admiring the view, my boy." Hedwyn flushed darker and tried to swallow his nervousness. This thing between them had seemed private and occasional, only when Volfred was primed in his budding and in the privacy of his home. All knew that the Prime Minister and the Chief Physician had a fondness for each other, that they faced trials, together and apart, and found themselves all the stronger for it.

Hedwyn still feels something of an interloper, the way he had ever since he had first met Oralech, Downside. He doesn't like voice it, not when Volfred had time and again reached out to reassure him of his welcome, when Oralech had come to him, later, regretting the bitterness that pressed him to speak such words, and seeking forgiveness. Which Hedwyn gave, all sincerity, but doubt lingers. He cannot forget who he is. That the few times he reached for his own sake, it always cost. And, Oralech and Volfred have such a history together, so great a love that many liken it to that between the Soliam and Gol themselves. (He has now read such epics as have been written about them—or, allegedly, by them—painstakingly sounding out the words aloud until his ears turned pink and he could voice them no more save in his head.) Volfred, exiled for seeking change, fighting against the corruptness of the Commonwealth. Oralech, exiled for seeking peace, and refusing to further an unjust, endless war. Who is he, a deserter, to that?

Hedwyn's eyes are drawn to the sound of the side door opening as Oralech arrives.

"Volfred, what do you–" He cuts off as he meets Hedwyn's eyes, inadvertent, and Hedwyn finds Oralech's expression suddenly inscrutable, his gaze a steady weight. "–I see."

Then, seemingly as one, Volfred and Oralech lock both doors and turn to face Hedwyn, stepping forward with such unmasked _want_ in their eyes Hedwyn finds he must look away.

Hedwyn stares down at his lap, knowing now that the flush has long made its way past his cheeks to the tips of his ears and down his neck. Even so, he still cannot shake the feeling that he does not belong here. He doesn't know what it is, but Oralech must see something, and when Volfred shifts forward he gently holds a halting hand up, before approaching slowly himself. He stands before Hedwyn—perched on the desk they are nearly matched in height, though Oralech still slightly the taller—and gently rests a clawed hand over Hedwyn's own, before slowly tilting Hedwyn's chin up with the other, to meet him again eye to eye.

"Do you want this?" Oralech asks, voice soft. "We want _you_ , Hedwyn, but only if you want us in return. There can be no obligation here."

Hedwyn struggles to open his mouth, still filled with doubt, with self-deprecation, when Oralech—for a moment—looks equally unsure, and steps back half a space.

"If you would prefer only Volfred–"

"No! I-" Hedwyn looks down again at his hands, before back up to Oralech again, searching. "Are you- are you certain that you," he turns to Volfred "that you both, want _me_?"

"Yes." They say it as one, as though one might have asked did the moon hang in the sky, and Hedwyn finds he has no more protest to give. He nods, then, and Oralech leans in, slowly moving as if to box Hedwyn in on the desk—slowly, that he may be stopped—and with one clawed hand guides Hedwyn's mouth to his.

And _oh_ , what a kiss, Oralech gently coaxing Hedwyn's lips to part before diving in, _claiming_. When they break apart at last, Hedwyn is gasping for breath, and nearly jumps when he feels the slightly-rough grain of Volfred's hands sliding up under his tunic from behind him.

 Volfred is quick to take advantage of Oralech drawing away to free Hedwyn of his tunic, and looses the headband that binds Hedwyn’s hair up, letting it fall softly into his face. Oralech leans in again, sucking on Hedwyn’s lower lip before tracing along the side of his cheek with tongue and lips and teeth, nipping small little love bites in a trail along Hedwyn’s chin, then down his neck, and across the breadth of his collar bone.

Hedwyn can feel Volfred’s softer, more intimate vines creep up, curling like ferns around his hips, lacking the rough bark of his exterior limbs, easing him back further onto the desk, even as Oralech lodges one large, muscled thigh between both of his own, spreading them wide. Oralech trails his mouth further down Hedwyn’s torso, arms caging Hedwyn in as his mouth shifts to lap at Hedwyn’s peaking nipples—already tender from the rough bark-scrape of Volfred’s teasing fingers—and forcing Hedwyn back almost all the way against the thick, sturdy oakwood of the desk.

Hedwyn stifles a moan, and in moments, Volfred’s lips are mouthing at his ear, and a hand coming up to pet against his cheek, even as Oralech’s mouth quests lower and lower still.

Oralech pauses when he reaches the drawstring of Hedwyn’s trousers. He looks up at Hedwyn, long white hair hanging down in his face and over his horns, and grins, before diving down to mouth through the fine, tan linen at the outline of Hedwyn’s hardening cock. Hedwyn gasps, and Volfred turns his head to muffle the noises with a kiss.

Hedwyn leans back against Volfred, and he can feel Volfred’s growing bud at the small of his back, even as Oralech forces his thighs apart even wider to fit the breadth of his shoulders as he crouches down to focus his attention onto Hedwyn’s cock. Hedwyn reaches down and tentatively grasps at one of Oralech’s horns. His hand curls around the smooth blue ivory as he bucks up against Oralech’s teasing mouth. One of the thinner vines around his waist is slipping beneath the waistband of his trousers, trailing teasingly along the seam of his inner thigh before twisting lower to curl around the base of Hedwyn’s cock and slowly, slowly inching its way upwards in a slow spiral towards the tip

Volfred slides his hands down Hedwyn’s sides, and he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of Hedwyn’s trousers to slowly ease them off. Oralech leans back just enough to allow Hedwyn’s cock to pop free before he dives back in, this time without the flimsy, wet fabric in the way. Hedwyn’s cock is red and angrily leaking precum, as the vine wrapped around the base of his cock slowly tightens. Oralech licks a long stripe up the side, teasing at both the tender tendril-vine and aching cock alike. Hedwyn can feel Volfred shiver against his back, and then the slick plop as his main bud unfolds. The oozing nectar-sap of Volfred’s ginger-cone flower head drips down the small of Hedwyn’s back and between the crack of his ass, a fountain of slick. Hedwyn worries, for a moment, about the stain against the wood grain, but as he opens his mouth to ask Oralech chooses to swallow his cock down to the base.

Hedwyn grips Oralech’s horn tightly and keens, a high-pitched sound soon swallowed by the slide of larger, thicker vines into his mouth, teasing at his tongue and coaxing Hedwyn to suck in rhythm with his aborted thrusts. Oralech’s clawed hands grip tightly at Hedwyn’s hips, holding him stead against the desk, his claws teasingly tapping against the skin, or drawing small, little red scrapes in the soft fleshy handles.

There must be some signal between Oralech and Volfred that he cannot see, for in one moment, Oralech is holding him firmly against the solid oak of the desk and in the next he is being lifted up, his cock sliding out from between Oralech’s lips, and settled back against a softer bark, more _alive_ , and his legs spread open wide. He can feel the way Volfred’s coneflower teases at his entrance, the layers scales fluttering in anticipation and slowly teasing him wider.

Volfred, too, shifts his hands to help hold him up, and Hedwyn is lowered with tantalizing slowness down onto Volfred’s bloom. They are both masters of control, lowering him with a slowness that makes him _ache_ , even as Volfred’s continued gushing nectar eases the way for each increasing half-centimeter. Hedwyn keens, and tries to force himself down faster, but Oralech’s grip merely tightens, and the demon chuckles.

“Impatient. In due time, Hedwyn. In due time.”

Finally, finally, he is fully seated on Volfred’s cone, and pressed flush against his chest, Hedwyn can feel the shudder as Volfred finally relaxes his iron-wrought control. The scale-like petals of the flower tremble and spread, blooming inside him as they gush sappy nectar. Each slightly spread stretching him more, the soft prickling of their careful edges tapping against his inner walls and even brushing against his prostate. Hedwyn arches up, unintentionally lifting his hips and causing the spread flower to tug at the rim of his hole, locked in tight from slipping out easily.

Oralech’s grip on his hips steadies again, and before Hedwyn takes his next breath he has swallowed Hedwyn’s cock down, sucking with a single-minded purpose as he holds Hedwyn flush against Volfred’s hips, while Volfred begins to force his coneflower to flutter and spread wider. The slender vines that had been teasing at his mouth draw back to make space for a thicker, tougher root. Carefully crawling up Hedwyn’s side, brushing a rougher bark-like texture against sensitive, red, pert nipples, and up along his throat until it slips past his lips to tease at his tongue.

Hedwyn sucks, mindlessly, his tongue swirling around the root in unconscious mirror of Oralech's tongue around his cock, and when the sensations grow to much he bites, and the tip of the root secretes a sweet nectar not unlike that currently dripping down his thighs.

Hedwyn thinks he has finally settled into the rhythm of Volfred’s spreading and contracting of petals. The ripple of sensation inside him as he is spread and spread, slick nectar sliding out and running down his legs to soak his trousers and the oak desk below. Oralech frees a hand from his hips, and Hedwyn does not have long to wonder where it has gone. With Volfred’s next contraction, Hedwyn can feel the careful slide of two sharp-clawed fingertips to join Volfred’s cone, scissoring open as Volfred’s cone blooms and expands, widening the stretch. Nectar flows freely around the fingertips, drenching them, and it is not long before Oralech is teasing at adding a third, even as Hedwyn grinds down and his moans are caught up in his throat, and coming out as broken gasps for breath around the thick root in his mouth.

One of Volfred’s finer vines curls around Oralech’s free wrist, and starts to go further, before Oralech pulls back, tapping it and gently detangling it from his arm.

“Ah, ah. Not yet you don’t.”

Volfred replies with something in the ancient tongue, and Oralech must at least understand that enough, because he laughs. Hedwyn only has presence of mind enough to note the conversation, but not follow it, even if he could understand the words, for the moment Oralech sets the vine back down it shoots up to curl and twist around his nipples, draping over his torso like green, spring jewelry.

Hedwyn tries to open his mouth wider, and is gratified by two thin green vines, sliding in around the root, teasing at his tongue by curling around it briefly in between curling around the root itself, giving an added contrast of texture and also encouraging it to leak more of its sticky-sweet nectar.

Behind him, Volfred’s trembling has increased, and time between each contraction and bloom as grown longer as the coneflower stretches and extends its petals as far out as they can spread. Volfred makes a sound, like wind whistling through tight branches, and suddenly Oralech’s three scissoring fingers inside of him curl around the cone instead, squeezing. Volfred _sighs_ a long exhale of breath, and the coneflower spreads to its widest, as a sudden gush of nectar bubbles up from all the spaces between. Hedwyn feels full, the liquid sloshing around inside of him, and stretched to near-bursting as the cone locks tight, spreading as large as it can. It leaves Oralech’s fingers pressed up against his prostate, insistent, rubbing in small circles of stimulation, but the thin vine around the base of his cock has yet to relax, and Hedwyn is kept teetering, oversensitive, on the edge of orgasm.

Volfred is spread wide, relaxed, within him, and Hedwyn cannot move, cannot edge himself closer to orgasm. Oralech has carefully removed his fingers and his holding him steady and still, while Volfred rests, relaxed, his chin hooked over Hedwyn's shoulder as he nuzzles into the crook of his neck. The bark of Volfred's skin rubs at red, sensitive bite marks. He's so close to the edge, but the vine around the base of his cock tightens further, and he is not allowed to move, no other sensation that the spread of Volfred's cone, almost but not quite enough.

When the tension passes, Hedwyn collapses, like a taut string cut. Then, and only then, does Volfred cause his bloom to contract a final time, closing together and spurting out one last gush of nectar, and oh so slowly slides free. Hedwyn's hole tries to tighten futilely around air, hold in the flow of juices that stream down his thighs and onto the wooden desk, soaking into the bunched up waist of his trousers, but there is little he can do. He moans, and slowly Volfred's root and vines slide away out of his mouth and over his body like a caress. He feels empty, and his eyes fall shut, cock still achingly hard.

Hedwyn hears the sound of shuffling, and shucked-off clothing and it is not long before he is lifted up again, in Oralech's steady hands, with the support of Volfred's vines twisted around him. He whimpers at the continued loss of fluid, as Oralech draws him close to his chest, facing him, and turns them both around until Oralech is half-sitting on the desk. Hedwyn can feel Oralech's own cock, equally hard and dripping as the bulbous ridges rub against the nectar-sap slickness of his thighs. Hedwyn's weight shifts as Volfred brings up a thick root like a bough for Hedwyn to perch on, and it is only a few moments more before Oralech is guiding his pointed cock-head into Hedwyn's still dripping, gaping hole.

Hedwyn is glad to be filled, again, and the many careful ridges and bumps of Oralech’s long, pointed cock rub against the tender, sensitized walls, until he is just settled over the knot of it, near the base. Oralech takes his time, thrusting up carefully with Hedwyn balanced in his lap, taking advantage of Hedwyn’s gasps and arched next to nibble along and create another set of love-bites, followed swiftly by curling, teasing vines.

Volfred weaves a careful braid of tender green vines, like a collar, around Hedwyn’s neck, just tight enough to be felt, and Hedwyn can feel both a sweep of pride and lust as well as a tinge of embarrassment at such a sign of claiming. Oralech hums against the skin of Hedwyn’s throat, pleased, and picks up the pace of his thrusts, even as he begins to tongue along the tender vines, causing them to shiver and on occasion contract slightly, causing small hiccups in the pattern of Hedwyn’s breathing.

Just when Hedwyn seems to have adjusted to the rhythm, Oralech tightens his grip on Hedwyn’s hips and slams upwards into him, driving his ridged knot past the rim of Hedwyn’s hole and bringing Hedwyn down so that he is fully seated on his own cock. Hedwyn nearly screams as the drive leads to the tip of Oralech’s pointed cock slamming directly against his prostate. Hedwyn slumps forward, and Oralech increases the strength of his thrusts, carefully driving into Hedwyn with a leashed ferocity, making sure to hit his prostate with each thrust and drag of his cock, locked inside of Hedwyn.

Volfred snakes out two more little vines to tease and curl again at Hedwyn’s nipples, pinching and twisting and curling tight around them. Hedwyn writhes in Oralech’s lap at the teasing, feeling overwhelmed and edging towards over-sensitized, with the thin vine still wrapped around his cock teasingly twisting and squeezing to ease him further closer to orgasm.

Hedwyn is on the cusp, aborted thrusts upwards into the twisting vine, when Volfred makes a soft sound behind him, and Oralech suddenly stops, lifting Hedwyn clear off his cock, with a quick tug and a smacking pop as Hedwyn’s clenching hole finally releases the girth of Oralech’s knot. Oralech stands, still holding Hedwyn, as Volfred’s vines curl back and away. Hedwyn whimpers, wanting to ask for them back, but finds the words are beyond his reach.

Oralech hitches one arm firmly around Hedwyn’s waist and uses the other, now free, to knock aside an even larger clear space on the desk. He is careful, laying Hedwyn down across the newly cleared, space, and Hedwyn gasps at the rough brush of the finely-sanded wood grain against his aching, over-sensitized nipples. Hedwyn shifts an arm in front of himself to rest his forehead upon, but Oralech makes a chiding noise, even as he settles himself between Hedwyn’s hanging legs.

The demon grips a fist-full of Hedwyn’s hair, and gently uses it to tilt his head up so he can see. In front of him is a blooming flower. It’s outer white petals are thick, meaty, and the inner yellow tendrils flushed vibrantly bright, surrounding a cavity already dripping sweet nectar. A pistil stretches out past the tendril-lips, a similar vibrant yellow, but the head looks like a spiny thing—one of the ‘urchins’ Ti’zo had fished up in the Sea of Solis.

“Go on,” Oralech urges, a smile in his voice as he helps lift Hedwyn by the hips to shift him further across the desk. Hedwyn reaches out with his tongue to lick at it. The not-spines tickle against his tongue, and Volfred visibly shakes, even as he shifts closer so that Hedwyn can better reach.

Hedwyn carefully draws the pistil into his mouth, sucking gently and twirling his tongue in amongst the long, spine-like tendrils. He can feel Oralech spread his legs wider. A clawed hand slides up the inside of his thigh, gathering up some of the dripping nectar-slick and slipping it back into his hole, before Oralech adjusts his grip on Hedwyn’s hips before thrusting back in again. The force of it sends him straight into Volfred’s flower, his nose tickling against the inter yellow tendrils, smearing their pollen all across his mouth and cheeks. Hedwyn opens his mouth and laps against the pistil, as well as along the inside edges of Volfred’s blossoming cunt.

The nectar coats the tendrils and makes them slick, clumping together as he mouths along their edges with his lips and tongue. This nectar has a greener taste than that he’d tasted before; it is more thick, viscous. Still, Hedwyn drinks it readily, chasing the taste as Volfred brings the smoothed bark of his hands against his shoulder blades and grips him tightly. Volfred shakes with each lick, his limbs rustling with the movement.

Oralech keeps a steady pace, edging Hedwyn ever closer to orgasm, save for the occasional extra-sharp _thrust_ , tugging his knot out past the rim of Hedwyn’s quivering hole before shoving it back in until he is sheathed to the hilt, forcing Hedwyn forward and his tongue deeper into Volfred’s dripping cunt. Volfred moans, pleased, and Hedwyn drags his tongue against the sensitive tendrils to coax out more of the noise. He draws the pistil into his mouth and gives it small sucks, uncaring of how Oralech’s thrusts smear Volfred’s nectar all across his face.

Something changes, a hitch in Volfred’s breath, the tone of Oralech’s grunts, but Hedwyn will never know. All he can tell is the way Volfred’s tender pistil-clit his suddenly dragged along his tongue as Oralech reaches across him to tug Volfred down to kiss leaf-verdant lips. How Oralech breaks away with an almost viciousness, and Volfred slumps back as Hedwyn finds himself so mired in nectar he could almost choke on it, drawing back slowly—lips, nose, and chin dripping—with great heaving gasps. Volfred’s smoothed bark hands coax Hedwyn into arching his back up, tracing down his torso before reaching between himself and the sturdy wood of the desk he is bent over to curl long, dextrous fingers around his cock. The feel of bark as it drags against his already sensitive organ is enough to send Hedwyn keening, shaking, over the edge of orgasm. Oralech thrusts in once more, around the weak contractions of Hedwyn’s hole, before he tucks his face into the crook of Hedwyn’s neck and comes with a long grunt, knot teasing at the rim of Hedwyn’s hole.

Without Volfred’s hands to steady him, and Oralech’s weight against his back, pressing him back down into the desk, he’d surely slide down and away, limp and tired. Oralech says something quiet, but fond, if the way he draws his clawed hands to carefully brush Hedwyn's hair away from his forehead is to judge; Volfred chuckles, low and rumbling, and rubs soothing circles between Hedwyn’s shoulder blades. He’d think it an uncomfortable position, but he’s so exhausted, and their touches so gentle.

He drifts off, sated, into sleep.

  


* * *

  


A week later, Hedwyn finds a small, rather flat, box on his desk, signed 'With Regards' from Volfred and Oralech. He carefully tucks the package away and waits until he reaches his flat to pull it out and untie the binding string. Inside is a beautiful choker of braided strands of soft gold. He picks it up to look at it closer, and realizes that it has the detailings of thin, fine vines, with a small gap, meant to be bent into shape around the wearer's neck. Unconsciously, Hedwyn brings a hand up to curl around his neck before he flushes furiously, and in his embarrassment knocks the box to the floor, dislodging a small card written with the large, blocky scratch that is Oralech's handwriting.

_MOVE IN?_

Hedwyn flushes deeper still, but the next day after work, he goes to Volfred's office and presents the box and a small rucksack with all his belongings just the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to Muun and Royce from the rooties channel. Also Ecto and uh... lots of fine folks tbh.


End file.
